


A Beautiful World

by aceklaviergavin



Series: Akekita Week 2020 [6]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Attends Shujin Academy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Family Fluff, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, Kitagawa Yusuke Attends Shujin Academy, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Shujin AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceklaviergavin/pseuds/aceklaviergavin
Summary: Akechi Goro and Kitagawa Yusuke form an unlikely pair, to be sure. Goro wears a perfect mask where Yusuke wears his heart on his sleeve. But they've been together their whole lives, ever since their mothers met inside the Tokyo women's shelter. They'll be together through everything after.(Against the odds, two single mothers find each other within an uncaring world. It changes everything.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Akechi Goro's Mother, Akechi Goro/Kitagawa Yusuke, Kitagawa Yusuke & Kitagawa Yusuke's Mother
Series: Akekita Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994365
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: Akekita Week





	A Beautiful World

**Author's Note:**

> Akekita Week Day 6: Accomplice AU // **Shujin AU**
> 
> i've known these women for two minutes and if anything happened to them i would kill everyone in the room and then myself.
> 
> the only real triggers for this one are some mild high school cruelty and teenager self-doubt

A group of boys crowd around the doors at Shujin. They talk in hushed tones, occasionally peering out through the glass at the gate beyond. As he approaches, Goro can hear their hissing laughter from around the corner. If they’re trying to be subtle, they’re failing miserably.

“He’s just sitting there,” one of them (Ikeda-san, track team) stage-whispers.

Another (Yamashita-san, second year) cranes his neck to peek outside. “Does he ever do anything besides _draw?”_

The last boy (Sugiyama-san, kendo club) shakes his head. “What a weirdo.”

Goro scowls, hand tightening around the handle of his briefcase, knuckles turning white. His first thought is that said briefcase would make a fine bludgeoning weapon. But then he’d get kicked from the student council and _worse,_ people would say that _of course_ he’d be violent with a mother like his. So if he wants to punch them, he’d at least have to lure them behind the dumpsters first.

Ikeda leans in close with a crooked smirk. “Do you think he’s drawing one of _us?”_

Sugiyama pretends to gag. “God, I hope not.”

Goro barges into their circle uninvited. “Given that Kitagawa-san primarily paints things of beauty, I doubt it.”

All three boys go rigid, gaping at the newcomer with wide eyes. Goro crosses his arms, making himself as tall as possible. He has a couple of centimeters advantage over most of the study body and he wields it like a club.

“Akechi-san…” Ikeda mumbles, “we didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly.” Goro offers a pleasant smile, a flash of canines peeking out from beneath the curl of his lip. “School is over. If you’re not here for extracurriculars you need to leave.”

“Right!”

“Of course!”

“Just getting our stuff!”

They disperse rather quickly after that. Goro watches them gather their belongings with narrowed eyes. They rush through the doors, still shoving their books into their bags as they stumble down the stairs. A thrill of satisfaction runs through Goro’s veins like lightning as the boys disappear beyond the gate. He never needed his fists to make a point.

Goro walks nonchalantly through Shujin’s front door, stepping out onto the small terrace outside. It’s a lovely spring afternoon, the sweetness of cherry blossoms ever present in the air. On a beautiful day like this, it’s only natural that Yusuke would choose to take in the sights. He sits on one of the planters by the door, a familiar sketchbook spread across his lap. A quick peek reveals that he’s drawing the view through Shujin’s gate.

“Yusuke,” Goro calls as he approaches, “are you ready?”

Yusuke looks up from his sketch, a welcoming smile spreading across his face. “Of course.”

Yusuke stows his sketchbook in his bag, shouldering it as he stands to his full height. Goro has to fight back a scowl every time he’s reminded. He’s spent his whole life being the tall one, only for Yusuke to shoot up ten centimeters last winter. He spent the remainder of the school year with pants that stopped short of his ankles and a blazer that struggled to button.

Thankfully, as a second year, his uniform fits nicely, the collar buttoned snugly against his neck. “Did you lose your blazer already?” Goro asks, leading Yusuke around the front of the school.

They stop in front of the bike racks just outside the gate. Goro hands Yusuke his briefcase, which Yusuke dutifully stuffs into his bag.

“Oh, no. I got warm so I took it off,” Yusuke says.

Goro stops wrangling his bike chain into submission long enough to throw Yusuke an exasperated look over his shoulder. “It’s ten degrees, how are you _warm?”_

Yusuke crosses his arms defensively. “I like the cold,” he says, as if Goro doesn’t already know.

When they shared a futon as children, Yusuke always made the bedding feel like an ice box. It was welcome during hot summers, when the fan went out and the thin blanket felt like a shroud of sweat. Goro would put his forehead to Yusuke’s shoulder to cool himself down, until Yusuke kicked him off for sweating on him. In the winter though, Goro would bundle himself in a thick blanket, only for Yusuke to torment him by shoving his chilly feet up Goro’s pant leg.

Goro wheels his bike out of the stand and straddles the frame. “Alright, hop on. And watch where you put those icicle hands.”

Yusuke carefully sits himself on the cargo rack behind Goro’s seat. He sets his feet on the peg jutting out from the wheel and winds his arms around Goro’s waist. It’s a bit awkward, especially after Yusuke’s limbs decided to stretch out like soba noodles. But Goro is loath to give this up, when he gets to have Yusuke cling to him twice a day.

“You good?” Goro asks.

Yusuke nods against the back of Goro’s blazer. Goro kicks up the stand and sets off. Yusuke’s hold tightens around his waist. They wind through the streets of Aoyama, passing through Kasumigaseki and Hibiya Park. They take the same route every day, pass through the same crowds of students. Sometimes, if Goro’s had a particularly shitty day, he’ll stop at a café on the outskirts of Ginza for a cup of coffee (and a muffin for Yusuke).

But today has just been regular shitty, so Goro keeps moving.

“How was Student Council?” Yusuke asks, voice muffled by Goro’s blazer.

Goro huffs. “Same as always. Nijima-san refuses to listen to a thing I say.”

Yusuke hums sympathetically. “I’m sure she just wants the best for the school.”

“No, she’s a do-gooder who doesn’t want to rock the boat,” Goro mutters, making no attempt to hide his scorn.

“That’s not a very polite way to address your President.”

Goro laughs. “When have I ever cared about being polite?”

Yusuke jabs him between his ribs. “Have you tried compromise instead of immediately painting Nijima-san as your enemy?” he asks pointedly.

Clearly, Yusuke knows him far too well. “Compromise is for those with weak conviction,” Goro mutters under his breath.

“You and Nijima-san are going to have to figure it out if you want to survive the school year.”

Goro hates that Yusuke is right. He sulks in silence for a few minutes. It’s enough to let Yusuke know that his words managed to get through. In the end, that’s really all Yusuke can ask for. He smiles into the back of Goro’s blazer.

“You didn’t have to intimidate those boys,” Yusuke murmurs.

Goro had wondered if that caught Yusuke’s attention. For someone so wrapped up in his art, Yusuke could be alarmingly perceptive. His peers seemed to be under the impression that Yusuke’s focus made him deaf to their jeers. But in reality, Yusuke hears far more than he lets on.

Sometimes, Goro still thinks of Yusuke as the frail, timid boy hiding behind his mother’s leg in the women’s shelter. Yusuke jumped at loud noises and cried whenever older men entered the room. That fear told a hundred stories that were too heavy for Yusuke to hold. They were running from something, just like Goro and his mom. Goro promised to protect Yusuke ever since, to keep Yusuke safe from an unkind world.

“I thought it was time for someone to teach them a lesson,” Goro hums noncommittally. He didn’t want to reveal just how much the teasing bothered him.

Yusuke huffs, “There’s no need for you to get in trouble on my behalf.”

Goro laughs. “Get in trouble for what? Telling a bunch of assholes to mind their own business?”

“For being rude and threatening your underclassmen. It’s unbecoming of a Vice President,” Yusuke says, his breath ghosting down the back of Goro’s neck.

“I think protecting the student body is exactly what a Vice President should do,” Goro counters, ignoring the way his hair stands on end.

“Except you’re not protecting the student body, you’re protecting me.”

Goro feels the blush crawling up his neck and he’s only glad that their positions keep Yusuke from seeing it. “And what, you think I should just let them keep talking?”

“Even if they don’t say it aloud, that’s not going to make them like me. If they don’t say it on school grounds they’ll just say it outside,” Yusuke says simply.

Goro hates that he’s right. No amount of intimidation can make people like Yusuke. Goro learned that back in elementary school when he bit someone for calling Yusuke a freak. The end result was that now their entire class thought they were _both_ freaks. At least after that they left Yusuke to sketch in peace.

It’s unfair. Everyone has always judged Yusuke so harshly for daring to be different. Goro is different, too, he’s simply learned to hide it. Yusuke never had use for a mask. He ignores social graces, preferring honesty over politeness. He makes no attempt to hide his lofty goals and aspirations.

Their classmates think Yusuke’s candor awkward and his passion annoying. Goro would rather have Yusuke over any of them. With Yusuke, he knows where he stands, because Yusuke never fails to speak his mind. Yusuke will talk for hours about his work while Goro watches the sparkle in his eye with rapt fascination. How self-obsessed were their classmates to find _this_ annoying?

“You shouldn’t have to listen to them,” Goro mumbles, jaw clenched.

“I’m used to it.”

Yusuke says it so plainly, like it’s meant to soothe Goro. If anything, it does the opposite. Goro’s blood simmers just beneath the surface. Yusuke shouldn’t _have_ to grow accustomed to people mocking him when they think he’s out of earshot. The fact that Yusuke can’t see that is all the more infuriating. Goro wants to go back and punch those kids, consequences be damned.

“I’m not going to stop looking after you,” Goro finally says. “But I promise I’ll be careful. Deal?”

“Compromise,” he chuckles against Goro’s back. His laughter rumbles through Goro’s chest. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Goro begins to slalom down the road. “What was that?” he teases, the bike tilting sharply off its axis.

“Goro, stop!” Yusuke yelps, tightening his arms around Goro.

Goro does not stop. “I’m pretty sure I heard someone being a smartass.”

Every turn makes Yusuke feel like he’s about to slide from his perch. The last thing he wants is to eat pavement, scratch up his hands, and dirty his uniform. His head starts spinning, motion sickness getting the better of him. Yusuke shoves his hand up Goro’s shirt.

“Hey!” Goro yells, the bike wobbling as he tries to escape Yusuke’s freezing fingers. “What did I say about those icicle hands?”

Goro straightens out and they finish their route at a tall apartment complex in Etchujima. The building is tall and plain, made almost entirely of concrete. The small glimpses through the windows show cramped apartments with simple decor. This close to the wharf, the air perennially smells like fish.

Yusuke hops off just as the bike rolls to a stop. Goro swings his leg over and walks the bike to the racks. When he finishes locking it in place, he pulls himself up to meet Yusuke’s curious gaze.

“You’re coming inside?” He asks, pulling Goro’s briefcase out of his bag.

“If that’s alright?” Goro takes his briefcase. “I’d just like to do my homework for a couple hours before I have to go to work.”

Yusuke nods. “I don’t mind. I’m sure my mother will feel the same.”

They climb the staircase to the apartment Yusuke shares with his mother. The inside of the building isn’t any more inviting than the outside. Flecks of paint chip off from the walls whenever Goro dares to touch them and a suspicious stain soaks into the carpet on the third floor landing. Yusuke pulls the keyring off his belt as they reach his door. His mother is almost certainly home, but he’d rather not pull her away from her work. He cracks open the door and ushers Goro in.

The inside of Yusuke’s apartment is familiar to Goro. Yusuke and his mother have lived here since Yusuke entered middle school. Goro and Yusuke’s mothers were finally stable enough to move out of the cramped apartment they all shared. When Akechi looks around at the secondhand furniture painted by Kitagawa-san’s hand, he remembers when they lived in his home. Kitagawa-san painted flowering cherry blossoms on the worn table in the living room, she sewed patches of old cloth over holes in their cushions, and even some of the pottery was shaped by her hands, and they all hold shards of Akechi’s memory.

Most striking of all is the sheer volume of artwork covering the walls. Kitagawa-san’s livelihood spans these walls, a framed landscape of Tokyo Bay sits beside a still life so realistic that Goro can smell its flowers. Kitagawa-san displays experiments with style and different mediums, watercolor, cubism, pastels, and expressionism all fill the walls like a living timeline of Kitagawa-san’s work.

Right beside the skilled, masterful pieces are ones painted with a less seasoned hand. Goro can recognize Yusuke’s artwork in an instant. Not only because he watched Yusuke paint them, but when placed next to his mother’s, the gap in skill is evident. Yusuke is talented for his age, yes, but his mother has been painting for longer than he’s been alive.

Despite the difference in quality, Yusuke’s work is displayed with just as much care and reverence as his mother’s. Just like Kitagawa-san, Goro can see Yusuke’s progression along these walls. Goro knows that in Kitagawa-san’s room is the first piece Yusuke ever painted, framed on her bedside. She loves her son and his work a great deal, she makes that evident in every corner of their home.

As Yusuke and Goro toe off their shoes by the door, Akane Kitagawa peeks out from her bedroom-slash-studio. “I thought I heard you come in.”

Yusuke nods. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Kitagawa-san lets out an affectionate sigh and steps fully into the living area. “You know you’re never a bother.”

Her long black hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun, loose strands streaked gray at her temples. An old t-shirt hangs off her shoulders, so painted splattered that Goro can barely identify its original color. It’s a far cry from the formal Kitagawa-san seen at exhibitions, who prefers traditional kimonos over jeans. It speaks to how comfortable she is here, in the space she made for her son.

“I don’t want you to lose focus,” Yusuke mumbles, looking away.

Kitagawa-san laughs gently, “How could I when my source of inspiration is right here?” Her eyes never leave Yusuke’s face.

Yusuke’s blush colors his whole face, red extending all the way up to his hairline. Goro can’t help but chuckle to himself. Yusuke turns his eyes to his friend, desperate for a lifeline. The only thing Goro offers is a shrug.

Yusuke blurts out the first thing he can think of, “G-Goro is going to stay for a couple hours.” Yusuke desperately wills his face to stop burning. “If that’s alright.”

“Hm?” Kitagawa-san glances at Goro as if noticing him for the first time. Goro offers a wordless wave. “Of course, you’re always welcome here. Will you be staying for dinner?”

“No, I’m just staying a little while before going to work,” Goro answers.

“Alright, but it’s been too long since you and Kazue-chan visited,” she says, a trace of melancholy permeating her voice. “I miss the dinners we used to have.”

Back when the four of them lived in the same apartment, they would eat together every night. Now that he thinks about it, Goro can’t remember the last time his mother took a break. Winter is typically an extremely busy time at the club, with all the holidays and tourists. But normally, she tries to spend a night with Goro at least a few times a month. Goro’s been so busy preparing for entrance exams and student council that he hadn’t even noticed. What kind of son is he to not even notice his mom is struggling?

“She’s been busy with the club, lately,” Goro says, putting on a polite smile, “but I’ll let her know you’re thinking of her.”

“Alright. Make sure she doesn’t wear herself thin,” Kitagawa-san teases.

Goro offers his hands, palms up. “I do my best.”

Kitagawa-san laughs gently into her hand. “Alright, before you boys go…” She turns to Yusuke. “Do you have anything to show me?”

Yusuke shifts awkwardly, his fingers drumming on his schoolbag. “Just some sketches,” he mumbles, eyes downcast.

Kitagawa-san smiles gently, hands clasped below her breast, the picture of patience. “I’d love to see them if you’re willing.”

Yusuke hesitates for a moment, plucking at the strap of his bag like the string on a guitar. He’s still flushed, the tips of his ears colored red in embarrassment. But this is a familiar ritual, one he treasures deeply. Finally, he turns back to his mother, slowly pulling his sketchbook out of his bag. He flips to the most recent page and turns it so Kitagawa-san can see.

Kitagawa-san takes it with great care, studying the simple sketch like she would a work of fine art. “Is this Shujin’s gate?” she asks.

Yusuke nods, refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s very rushed,” he murmurs. “I did it while Goro was in his meeting…”

“It’s very impressive for a quick study,” she hums. “Your use of perspective is improving.”

Yusuke preens like a little bird, chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

“Have you been doing those exercises I showed you?”

Yusuke nods fervently. “Yes, they’ve helped greatly!”

Kitagawa-san smiles and returns his sketchbook. “It shows.” Tenderly, she tucks a strand of hair behind Yusuke’s ear. “Every day you improve more and more.”

Whatever redness had left his face returns full force under the praise. Yusuke finds himself at the center of his mother’s pride while Goro looks on in thinly veiled amusement. He loves his mother dearly, but sometimes she’s just too much. Yusuke resorts to hiding behind his sketchbook.

“Goro and I will be going to my room, now!” he says emphatically, quickly retreating behind his door.

Goro chuckles and follows close behind, offering Kitagawa-san a half-hearted wave. The door to Yusuke’s room slides shut, Yusuke leaning heavily against the wall. His sketchbook still covers his face, hiding his blush from Goro’s sight.

Yusuke’s room looks similar to the rest of the apartment. One corner is reserved for a small workstation, an easel set by the window, and the floor permanently covered with newspaper. The painting he’s working on currently is a portrait. Or at least Goro _thinks_ it’s a portrait. The elements of a human face are there, but they’re disjointed and abstract in a way that makes the subject unrecognizable. Clearly, Yusuke is trying something new.

A desk sits in the opposite corner, where Yusuke keeps his schoolwork and a collection of trinkets he finds interesting. There’s a small clay figure of a fox, a wood block painting of a maple tree, and a polished piece of lapis lazuli that the seller had promised would bolster Yusuke’s immune system. Yusuke had said that was preposterous but bought it anyway for the color.

A fluffy duvet printed with _The Great Wave Off Kanagawa_ is piled high atop Yusuke’s folded futon. Beside it sits a couple bean bag chairs, one draped in a throw blanket bearing _Starry Night._ Goro wraps himself in the blanket and plops down on the chair with a sigh. It’s terrible for his back, but it feels so good to just lounge. Having recovered from his embarrassment, Yusuke sinks into the other chair, long limbs sprawling out onto the floor.

Goro sighs regretfully. As much as he’d like to just hang out, he really should do his homework. He sits up enough to grab his bag, pulling it into his lap with herculean effort. He grabs his history textbook, deciding to start with something he can finish quickly.

“It _has_ been a long time since you’ve stayed over,” Yusuke finally says, apropos of nothing.

Goro hums, holding his textbook on his lap and flipping to an open page in his notebook. “I’ve been busy.”

“Right…” Yusuke hums, picking at his nails. “Exams and student council and work.”

Goro nods wordlessly, flipping through his textbook for answers. “Exactly. I’m glad you understand.”

Yusuke continues to stare at his hands, letting the silence hang in the air. It’s thick and fills Goro’s brain with an impenetrable fog. It’s completely impossible for him to work like this.

Goro sighs, sitting up to try and catch Yusuke’s eyes. “What is it?” he asks with a hint of annoyance.

“It’s nothing,” Yusuke mutters, refusing to meet Goro’s gaze.

Goro rolls his eyes. “Clearly, it’s not nothing or you wouldn’t be sulking.”

“I’m not _sulking,”_ Yusuke grumbles.

Goro raises an eyebrow.

“I’m _not,”_ Yusuke insists. “I’m just… worried, I suppose.”

Goro really does not have time to play therapist. “About?”

“You’re going off to university soon and… everything’s going to change,” Yusuke says, gaze darting to look out the window.

Goro purses his lips. “Yes, I suppose it will.”

Yusuke bites the inside of his cheek. “Doesn’t that frighten you?”

Goro snorts. “Why should it?” he asks harshly

Yusuke blinks at him, stunned. “Because things are good right now?” he says defensively.

“When have they ever been good?” Goro laughs bitterly.

Goro has always looked forward to the day he’ll finally have some power of his own. Everyone he loves has spent their lives being kicked around by people who think themselves better. Goro yearns for the chance to prove they’re not, that a bastard son can rise above them. A fraud stole years of Yusuke’s life, a demon forced his mother to beg for scraps. Goro wants to finally repay his mother for the life she’s given him. Her family abandoned her, society ground her beneath its heel, and outsiders scorned the choices she made. She suffers through it all to make Goro happy. Goro wants to stop being her burden to bear.

The words trip on Yusuke’s tongue, silence falling over them. “I… didn’t know you were so unhappy,” he murmurs quietly.

“Not unhappy.” Goro idly flips to another page in his textbook. “Just eager to move on to better things.”

Yusuke watches him, eyes shining like an open wound. “I see…”

Yusuke falls silent and doesn’t say anything else. Conversation resolved, Goro is eager to finish his assignment. He manages to finish history and get started on his English homework before he has to leave. He doesn’t notice that the whole time he works, Yusuke never moves.

Goro stows his books in his bag and pushes himself to a stand. He rolls his shoulders, cramped from holding position on the bean bag for so long.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Goro says politely, making his way to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

Yusuke hums wordlessly and makes no move to stand. Goro’s footsteps fade into the distance, followed by the sound of the front door. All too soon, it’s simply Yusuke left with his thoughts. His heart weighs him down like a stone. He can’t paint like this. Idly, he grabs his math homework and half-heartedly works through a few problems, but even _he_ can tell his work is sloppy.

“Yusuke, can you help me make dinner?” his mother calls from the kitchen.

“Coming!” Yusuke shouts back.

He sets his books aside and trudges into the kitchen, socked feet dragging on the floor. His mother is already there, a pot of water beginning to boil on the stove. A selection of asparagus, mushrooms, sweet potato, and celery are laid out on the cutting board. Yusuke grabs the kitchen knife and sets to work chopping vegetables as he always does.

“How was school?” his mother asks, stirring in the soup base.

“Fine.”

“What are your classes like?”

Yusuke shrugs. “Good.”

His mother frowns, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Do you like your teachers?”

“I suppose.”

She stops asking questions after that. Yusuke loses himself if the click of the knife on the cutting board. It’s rhythmic and soothing, and he can simply go through the motions that his body already knows. His mother prepares the broth and the noodles, then adds the vegetables once he’s finished.

“Thank you, you can go sit down. It’ll just be a few more minutes,” she says with a gentle smile.

Yusuke nods numbly, walking to the low table set up in the living room. He sits on his favorite floor cushion, the blue one that lets him look at a painting of an old shiba inu. He remembers watching his mother paint it when he was five. He’d ask if he could pet the dog when she was done. Normally the memory brings a smile to his face, but right now even that feels like too much.

His mother sets a steaming bowl of udon in front of him, taking her place across the table. “Here you are.”

Yusuke grabs his chopsticks. “Thank you,” he says listlessly.

Akane watches her son carefully while he eats. Normally, Yusuke eats every meal like a man starved. Often, he’ll finish and grab seconds before Akane is even halfway done with hers. He’s a growing boy with a voracious appetite and it’s never clearer than at the dinner table. The Yusuke in front of her now is dejected, idly guiding noodles into his mouth while he stares into the distance.

He quietly finishes his udon at the same time as her. Akane watches him, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. He collects their bowls, preparing to stand, and wash the dishes like he does every night.

“Wait just a moment,” she says, holding out a hand to stop him.

Yusuke pauses, meeting his mother’s eyes for the first time since their meal began. “Is something the matter?”

Akane tilts her head, giving her son a knowing look. “I think I should be asking you that question,” she tuts. “You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Yusuke’s gaze falls to the table, eyes focusing on the cherry blossoms drawn by his mother’s hand. “It’s… not important. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

Akane hums, “Regardless, I’d like to hear about whatever’s bothering you.” She knits her hands together, resting her chin on the bridge of her fingers.

Yusuke sets the bowls off to the side, not daring to meet his mother’s gaze. “I think… Goro’s getting tired of me,” he mumbles.

Akane blinks, startled. “What makes you think that?” She’s seen the way Goro looks at her son. Nothing in his gaze indicates that he’s bored of their friendship.

Yusuke shrugs, tracing the branches on the table with his fingers. “He doesn’t have much time for me anymore.” Akane hums in sympathy. “And he’s going to college next year and then the rest of his life… He’s not going to get _less_ busy.”

Akane nods, listening to Yusuke’s feelings without judgment. “You’re both at very stressful times in your lives. A lot of things are changing,” she advises gently.

“I tried to bring it up to him and he said…” Yusuke’s voice cracks with the threat of tears. “He said he wanted to ‘move on to better things.’”

Suddenly, the mask Yusuke’s been struggling to hold cracks, hot tears staining his cheeks. His face crumples like a discarded sketch, the lines on his face too harsh to fix. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing at his tears helplessly with his sleeve.

Akane carefully slides around to the other side of the table. “Oh honey,” she coos, gathering her son into her arms.

Yusuke goes easily, falling onto her shoulder like he has so many times before. “We’re not going to see each other at school. He’ll be so busy he’ll forget about me.”

Akane splays her hands across Yusuke’s shoulders, so much broader than they once were. “You don’t know that. You’ve been friends all these years, he won’t forget that so easily.”

“He’ll meet so many interesting people. People that aren’t awkward, or weird, or need to be protected,” Yusuke sniffles. “Why would he stay friends with me?”

Akane remembers holding him like this as a child, when Yusuke scraped his knee on the playground or when his painting didn’t turn out the way he envisioned. Akane would crouch down low and bundle Yusuke in her arms and kiss him to make it better. Yusuke is so much taller now than he was as a child. She has to stretch just to reach all the way around him. But he still lays his head on her shoulder and paints her clothing with his tears.

“Darling, don’t think of yourself like that,” Akane says gently. “Goro-kun loves you for who you are.”

“I’m not good enough,” Yusuke sobs. “Goro is intelligent, and charming, and _beautiful…_ All I do is hold him back.”

Akane’s heart aches for her boy. She’s suspected for a while that Yusuke has a crush on Goro. Yusuke can be oblivious to his own emotions at times, but Akane knows her son. She’s seen the care he puts into sketches of Goro’s face, how he keeps them all in an ever-growing pile on his desk. She used to do the same for Yusuke’s father, years ago. But to hear love bring Yusuke so much pain is a dagger through her heart.

“You’re all of those things, too,” Akane says, gently carding her fingers through Yusuke’s hair, “anyone who loves you will see that.”

“Who could possibly love a freak like me?” Yusuke whimpers.

He closes his eyes and burrows into the safety of his mother’s arms. When he breathes in, she smells the same as she always has, like sandalwood and cherry blossoms. He can drift off and pretend he’s a child again, that life is simple and the only things that matter are right here beside him. Akane holds him close, rocking him the way she used to when he was small.

* * *

> **Yusuke:** You don’t need to take me to and from school anymore. I can take the train myself.
> 
> **Goro:** Alright. Can I ask why?

Goro sits at the small table in the apartment he shares with his mother, scrolling aimlessly through his chat history with Yusuke. After Goro’s most recent message, there’s been no response for days. That isn’t altogether too unusual. Yusuke prefers face to face communication and will sometimes go days without remembering to charge his phone.

But normally, Goro will still see Yusuke at school. As it stands, they haven’t crossed paths since Goro left Yusuke’s apartment earlier in the week. Yusuke ducks into his classroom before Goro can intercept him and leaves before Goro finishes his extracurriculars.

One time when they were children they got into a fight over which Featherman was the best. Yusuke insisted it was Blue Swan when _obviously_ it was Gray Pigeon. They stopped talking for a week, until finally their mothers put them in the sandbox and forced them to apologize. This is the longest they’ve gone without talking since then.

Clearly, Yusuke is avoiding him. But no matter how many times Goro reads through their messages, he can’t piece together what he’s done wrong. He replays their last conversation over and over in his head and can’t answer the question that’s been plaguing him. Yusuke is upset with him, yet Goro can’t figure out why.

The front door of their apartment creaks open in the early hours of the morning, followed by a heavy sigh as a pair of heels thump against the floor. Blistered feet pad on the carpet as Akechi Kazue steps into the dim light of her kitchen. She pauses, seeing Goro at the kitchen table. He doesn’t look up at her entrance, all his attention taken by his phone.

Kazue grabs the table for support, practically falling into the chair across from her son. “You should be asleep,” she scolds gently.

Goro finally sets his phone aside, giving his mother a smile. “I was just catching up on some work.” He gestures at the open textbook pushed off to the side.

Kazue hums, slumping across the table with a weary sigh. Akechi pushes himself up, quickly reheating the dinner he’d set out for her earlier. Kazue buries her head in the pillow of her arms, brown hair spilling out over her shoulder like sand. Heavy makeup darkens her eyes, red lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth. Goro thinks if he left her now, she would fall asleep right where she is.

He sets a steaming bowl of miso soup in front of her, along with a cup of herbal tea. At the smell of food, Kazue looks up. She blinks at Goro, as if she’d forgotten he was there. She sits up with a loud yawn, taking in the meal her son has prepared.

“Oh, Goro, you didn’t have to do this,” she says, wrapping her hands around her favorite chipped teacup.

Goro takes his seat across from her and shrugs. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “I know you’re tired.”

Kazue smiles wearily, crow’s feet crinkling around her eyes. “Thank you, sweetie.”

Goro has spent far too much of his young life taking care of her. Kazue has always struggled to make ends meet, to make sure Goro has everything he needs to succeed. She never had time or money to indulge him with things most parents could. Ever since Goro was old enough to watch himself, she would work through the evening, and by the time she came back he would already be asleep. She would leave him food to reheat, then come home and collapse before she could eat anything herself.

In middle school, Goro learned to cook so that he could make sure she was eating properly. She cried the first time she came home from work to a bowl of yakisoba on the table next to a note that read: _for you, Mom._ He’s left her something to eat almost every day since, and every time it brings a new ache. He manages to make her feel like royalty, even in their tiny apartment, barely scraping by.

She finishes the soup and takes a long draw of tea, her shoulders relaxing at the familiar notes of chamomile. “You weren’t waiting up for me were you?” she asks, eyeing Goro across the table.

Goro awkwardly scratches his cheek. “Not entirely?” he murmurs. “It’s just… been a while since I’ve seen you.”

This guilt is a familiar feeling. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Goro says quickly.

Goro learned long ago that his mother tries to take responsibility for things she has no control over. The weight of the scorn she bears drags her down, no matter how much she tries to shake it. She’s done everything in her power to give Goro the life he wants, then blames herself for falling short. If Goro acts out, it’s a reflection of her poor parenting, if Goro fails, it’s because she couldn’t provide him the tools he needed. If Goro misses her when she’s gone, then it’s her fault for being a single mother.

“I’ve just missed you, that’s all,” Goro says sheepishly, rubbing at the blush on his cheeks.

Kazue smiles sadly. “I’ve missed you, too.” She reaches across the table to brush the hair from Goro’s eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been working so much.”

Goro sighs, leaning into her touch. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” He swallows thickly. “You’re putting aside money for my college fund, aren’t you?”

Kazue lets out an affectionate sigh. Of course Goro would figure it out. “I need to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Goro huffs, meeting her eyes with that fierce gaze of his. “Mom, you don’t need to worry about me,” he insists, “I’ll figure it out.”

_“Goro,”_ she scolds, “it’s my _job_ to worry about you.” She tenderly smooths her thumb over Goro’s cheek. “You spend so much time worrying about me, I think you forget I’m your _mom.”_

Goro meets her gaze, eyes tender in the way only she gets to see. “How could I possibly forget that I’m so lucky?”

Her lip trembles, tears needling the back of her eyes. She can’t possibly imagine how her son shares blood with that man. He’s the one bright spot in her life. Raising him was the one good thing she’s ever done.

Slowly, she gathers up Goro’s hands in both of hers. “How about this,” she begins, “next month I’ll take a night off and we can go to that sushi restaurant you like so much?”

Goro smiles to himself, staring at their clasped hands. “That sounds great, mom.”

“Maybe we can even invite Yusuke-kun and Akane-chan!” She squeezes his hands. “It’s been a long time since the four of us have been together!”

Goro’s eyes immediately dim, his smile fading. “Maybe.” Despite his efforts, his voice falls flat.

Kazue gives him a confused look. “Is something wrong?” Normally at the mention of Yusuke, Goro is nothing but excited.

“No… I don’t know. Maybe,” Goro hesitates, mulling over his words. “I think Yusuke is angry with me.”

Kazue blinks at him wordlessly. “That’s not like him,” she murmurs.

“I know!” Goro wants to throw his hands up in defeat. “That’s why it’s so confusing!”

Yusuke is known for being calm and level-headed. Some would even say he’s aloof about anything that isn’t art. The only times Goro has seen Yusuke truly angry are when someone insults the works of Michelangelo, or when he hears rumors about his mother. He doesn’t even get upset when he overhears people ridiculing _him._

“How long has this been going on?” Kazue asks, no doubt wondering how she missed something so important in her son’s life.

Goro shakes his head. “Just a few days. But he’s been avoiding me at school and isn’t responding to my messages.”

His mother offers him a timid smile. “Maybe he’s just busy. You’ve been plenty busy yourself, recently,” she points out.

Goro purses his lips. “Perhaps.” Though if that were the case, surely Yusuke would have let him know beforehand? Goro can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing a piece of the puzzle.

Kazue’s son is smart. Often if she helps guide his thoughts, he can find the answer himself. “When was the last time you spoke?”

“Earlier this week. I spent some time at his place before heading to work.”

That catches Kazue’s attention. As far as she knows, Goro’s been too busy to spend time with Yusuke as of late. This would be the first time they’d hung out in months. For Yusuke to break off all contact immediately after suggests there must be some connection.

“Did you get into a fight?” she guesses, though surely if the answer was that simple, Goro wouldn’t be so confused.

Goro shakes his head. “Not really.”

Kazue purses her lips. “That’s not a ‘no.’”

Goro drums his fingers on the table, lost in deep thought. “It was so minor, I barely even remembered it until just now,” Goro says, eyes unfocused. “He asked if I was worried about going off to university and I said no.”

That hardly seems like something worth ending a friendship over. “That’s it?” Kazue asks.

Goro keeps drumming his fingers on the table, racking his brain for every word he’d said. He had an impressive memory, it showed on all of his exam scores. But even he struggled to recall a conversation when he had no indication that it would be important.

“He said he was happy with the way things are, then I said I was eager to move onto better things,” Goro says lamely.

Kazue blinks at her son, a picture beginning to form in her mind. “You really said that?” she asked in mild disbelief.

“Yes?” A frown pulled at the corners of Goro’s mouth. “It’s true, I’m tired of taking orders from Kobayakawa-sensei and his ilk.”

Kazue takes a long sip of her tea, giving herself time to gather her thoughts. When she sets it down she turns her gaze on Goro. For all that Goro wears the mantle of a man far older than his years, he’s still just a child.

“When Yusuke said he was happy with the way things are, I don’t think he was talking about Kobayakawa-san,” she says slowly.

“Even so, I want to _do_ something with my life, instead of wasting it away on high school _bullshit.”_

“Language,” Kazue scolds, taking another sip of tea.

She eyes Goro with nostalgia, remembering when she was young and brimming with zeal. “You are far too eager to grow up,” she sighs.

“I’m tired of both of us being pushed around. I’m going to change things,” he insists, fire burning in his eyes.

Kazue can’t help her fond smile. “And you’ll change the world one day, I know you will.” She gently squeezes Goro’s hand. “But did you ever think about what that change means for Yusuke-kun?”

Goro furrowed his brow, confusion clouding the spark in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Kazue chuckles to herself. For someone so intelligent, her son could be surprisingly dense. “I mean you’re going to go off to university while Yusuke-kun’s still in high school. You won’t be there to take him to school anymore and you very well might live on the other side of the city.”

Goro hums and Kazue can see the wheels beginning to turn in his head.

“You said yourself that you’ve been busy. It’s been awhile since you spent time with Yusuke-kun, hasn’t it?” She prods, pushing Goro closer and closer to the edge of realization. “I think what he really meant is that he’s worried about losing _you.”_

And Goro’s response was that he couldn’t wait to leave him behind.

The blood rushes from Goro’s face as the lightbulb flashes over his head. _“Mom!”_ he groans, burying his face in his hands, “I’ve really fucked this up!”

“Language,” Kazue chuckles, reaching across the table to place a hand on Goro’s shoulder. “It’s alright. That’s part of growing up, too.

Friday after school, Goro barely waits for the bell before rushing out of classroom 3-B. There’s absolutely no way Yusuke could have made it through the gate by now. Unless he tries to climb the walls, Yusuke will have to pass through to reach the station.

Goro waits in an alcove by the gate, hidden from plainview. He’s not going to give Yusuke the chance to run away this time. The occasional student notices him tucked between buildings and gives him a strange look before hurrying off. He _does_ have a reputation as a bit of a hardass, and him lurking near the gate probably isn’t going to help the rumors. However, at the moment, he really can’t be bothered to terrorize the underclassmen.

The one good thing about Yusuke’s height is that he’s easy to spot in a crowd. Goro zeroes in on him as soon as he steps through the doors. His dark blue hair stands tall above a sea of blacks and browns. He reaches into his bag, grabbing a pair of tickets like a lifeline and prepares to step out from his hiding place.

“Akechi-san, there you are.” A high-pitched, authoritative voice calls. Nijima Makoto, Shujin Academy Student Council President, steps firmly into Goro’s way. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Goro’s eyes follow Yusuke through the crowd over Makoto’s shoulder. “Nijima-san,” he greets through clenched teeth, “I wasn’t aware there was a meeting today.”

Makoto folds her arms over her chest. “There isn’t, but I wanted to discuss your suggestions for improving student morale.”

_She talks like an alien doing a piss poor job at pretending to be human,_ Goro thinks. Normally Goro has no problem lending an ear to Makoto as she problem solves. In fact, he prefers it to letting her brainstorm alone. At least this way, Goro can exert some control over the outcome. It’s his duty as Vice President, after all.

But right now Goro has one goal and Makoto is _not_ involved. Goro shifts anxiously in place, watching as Yusuke approaches the gate. Instinct tells Goro to simply shoulder Makoto out of the way. She may do aikido, but Goro is still pretty sure he could take her in a fight. But the last thing Goro wants to do is blow Makoto off and make her dislike him more than she already does.

“Nijima-san, can this wait?” he asks, voice teetering on the edge of a growl.

Makoto blinks at him, startled by the venom in his voice. “I suppose, but I wanted to come to a decision before the weekend.”

Yusuke disappears through the gate and Goro curses under his breath. “Listen, I will _gladly_ discuss this with you over the phone tonight but right now, I am _extremely_ busy.” He nimbly sidesteps her, speedwalking towards the gate with renewed determination.

Makoto watches him go in stunned silence. “But you were just standing here?” she says to empty air. _He’s such a pain in the ass, sometimes,_ she thinks.

Goro breaks into a jog as he crosses through the gate. _Damn Yusuke and his long legs._ Goro scans the crowd, making sure he hasn’t lost Yusuke’s trail. Thankfully, Yusuke stands out like a beacon, towering above his peers.

“Yusuke!” Goro calls out.

Yusuke freezes in place. A few students glance between the pair, curious at the unfolding scene. Excluding opportunities to prove his superiority, it’s wildly out of character for Goro to draw attention to himself in public. Yusuke, too, prefers to ghost under the radar, save for occasions where he can discuss the arts.

Yusuke feels the weight of his classmate’s stares, their insults whispering in his ears. Part of him wants to just keep walking and prolong… whatever’s going to happen next. He’s certain that this is going to be the end of the only friendship he’s ever had. He isn’t ready to face it yet, particularly _here,_ where everyone can see. For a long moment, he keeps his back to Goro.

Slowly, he turns, seeing his friend’s face for the first time in days. “Goro,” he says quietly, shifting uneasily under the weight of his classmates’ stares.

Goro quickly straightens his blazer, trying to look like he _hadn’t_ just run after Yusuke. “It’s good to see you,” he coughs into his fist.

Yusuke glances away, refusing to meet Goro’s eyes. “It’s… good to see you, too.”

Goro swallows, his throat suddenly parched. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Yusuke stares down at his shoes, mouth pulling into a thin line. The both of them know it’s true, it’s not as if Yusuke made any significant effort to hide it. But admitting to it will invite questions and Yusuke doesn’t know if he can provide any answers. He doesn’t want to put a voice to the thoughts he’s been having.

“It’s alright,” Goro says without waiting for Yusuke’s response. “Will you go to the planetarium with me?” Goro holds a pair of tickets out to Yusuke and prays that he can’t see the tremble in his hands.

Yusuke stares wordlessly at the tickets in Goro’s hands. They’re colored a pretty galactic purple with little stars printed on the paper. Yusuke had mentioned this show a few weeks back and how much he’d wanted to go. But as always, money was tight and time was short. Yusuke had simply resigned himself to gazing at the star stickers on his ceiling.

Yusuke says the first words that reach his mouth. “I thought you had to work.”

Goro waves the tickets enticingly. “They changed the schedule.”

Technically, it’s not a lie. His manager _did_ change the schedule after Goro pleaded with Ren to take his shift. Ren didn’t actually take that much convincing, he just wanted to see Goro beg.

Yusuke doesn’t move, holding the strap of his bag in a vice grip. “You shouldn’t have spent that much money on me,” he murmurs.

“Unfortunate, then, that I already did.”

Yusuke pouts. “You don’t even _like_ the planetarium.”

“I like spending time with you,” Goro says without missing a beat. “I like making you happy.”

Despite himself, Yusuke’s heart flutters inside his chest. Goro’s eyes bear down on him, alight with the fire of a hundred stars. It’s unfair just how much beauty exists in those eyes. Yusuke couldn’t say no if he tried.

Yusuke takes the ticket with a sigh, “Alright.”

Ikebukuro is just too far to bike, so instead they take the train. Before Yusuke can pull out his wallet, Goro pays for his fare. Yusuke huffs, glaring at the back of Goro’s head. But his gaze rolls off Goro’s shoulders like water. The train is packed after school, Goro crowds into Yusuke’s space, their sides flush against each other. The crowd thins slightly as students get off at their stations, but Goro never moves from Yusuke’s side.

They arrive at Ikebukuro a few minutes early, allowing Yusuke to take his time picking the perfect seats. The majority of the theater is taken up by rows of normal chairs. But one end of the room has a row of loveseats, stacked high with fluffy white pillows to resemble clouds. Yusuke frames the empty theater with his fingers, trying to find the perfect angle to view the stars. To Goro, the view from everywhere is the same, but Yusuke insists it makes a difference.

In the end, Yusuke chooses the center couch, reclining atop the pillows like nobility. Goro hesitates for just a second before slotting in beside him. The cushions sink beneath him, soft and plush. He’s weightless, staring up at the stars. Goro imagines this is what it really must feel like to lay on a cloud.

Goro glances at Yusuke by his side. The couch is big enough to leave space between them if they wish. Somehow, that distance feels insurmountable. It’s far from the first time they’ve lain at each other’s sides. They spent their youth huddling in pillows forts and sharing blankets to keep out the cold. But it feels different now, after days without Yusuke’s arms laced around his waist, or his breath ghosting down the back of his neck.

More people filter in, filling the room with idle chatter. It’s all white noise to Goro, who only hears Yusuke’s steady breaths. Slowly, he breaches the gap, nudging Yusuke’s hand with his. That brings Yusuke down from the clouds and he turns to Goro with a curious look. Already, the stars reflect in his eyes.

All the breath escapes Goro’s lungs, but he twines their pinkies together and offers Yusuke a small smile. The one Yusuke returns is dazzling, even in the dim light. Yusuke turns back to the stars as the lights fade, but Goro never looks away.

The show starts, capturing all of Yusuke’s attention and leaving none for Goro. Part of him is jealous that some fancy lights can so easily dazzle Yusuke. But in the end, Goro can’t be too upset. He gets to watch Yusuke’s eyes alight with wonder and hear his every awed gasp.

Stars streak past as the camera zooms through the solar system. Constellations string together on the tapestry of the sky, hung far above their heads. Goro never cared much for the stars. He was far more concerned with the reality of life on Earth. But Yusuke watches, enraptured by the beauty of a world he can never reach. Goro thinks that space might not be so bad, if Yusuke was there with him.

Slowly, Goro edges closer, pressing himself flush against Yusuke’s side. Everywhere they touch hums with energy like a livewire. They’ve done this so many times before. Yet everything feels different now. If Goro has to leave Yusuke for another day, he might die.

Goro lays his head on Yusuke’s shoulder. “Tell me about your favorite planet,” Goro whispers.

Yusuke’s arm curls around Goro’s shoulders, familiar and steady. “Jupiter, named for the Roman ruler of the gods…” he begins.

Goro already knows, of course. But he loves to hear the passion in Yusuke’s voice. This close, he feels the rumble of Yusuke’s words in his bones.

After the show, they cut through a small park on the way back to the station. A brown-feathered duck floats on the water of a small man-made pond. It crosses beneath the bridge that connects both sides of the park, weaving through the reeds. Across the bridge is the quickest way to the station.

But instead of continuing to the other side, Goro stops in the middle. It takes a couple strides before Yusuke notices that Goro’s footsteps no longer fall beside his own. Yusuke turns around, watching as Goro leans against the railing.

“Goro?” Yusuke calls.

Goro meets his gaze, eyes clouded in thought. As to what he’s thinking of, Yusuke hasn’t the slightest idea. Yusuke’s never been good at reading emotions and Goro prefers to keep his close to his chest. The silence stretches on, and all Yusuke can do is shift uncomfortably under Goro’s gaze.

“I haven’t been a very good friend to you lately,” Goro finally sighs, knitting his hands together in front of his stomach.

“That’s not true,” Yusuke insists.

“We haven’t spent time together like this in months,” Goro scoffs.

Yusuke chews on the inside of his cheek. “You’ve been busy,” he says weakly.

“That’s no excuse.” Goro shakes his head. “I should have made time for you. I _will_ in the future,” he promises.

Goro’s future is important. He’s told Yusuke at length about his aspirations, his desire to change the world for the better. With Goro’s intelligence and dedication, Yusuke knows he’ll get there one day. Yusuke never wants to be the reason that Goro falls short.

Yusuke holds the strap of his bag in a vice grip. “You don’t need to worry. Your future is more important,” he protests.

Goro takes a step forward, across the gap that separates them. _“You’re_ important to me. I never want you to doubt that again.” Those crimson eyes pierce through Yusuke’s skin.

Yusuke can’t stand it. He tears his eyes away, looking to the lone duck floating on the water’s surface. He opens his mouth, but no words escape around the stone in his throat. His tongue weighs against the floor of his mouth like lead.

“You could have so much better,” Yusuke finally croaks. “You could have anyone you wanted.”

_“Fuck_ that,” Goro nearly growls, teeth flashing bone-white inside his mouth. “Why would I want anyone else when I have you?

“Because I’m…” Yusuke gestures vaguely at himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Goro steps across the bridge until he crowds Yusuke’s space.

“Because I don’t fit in!” Yusuke snaps, annoyed that Goro would make him say it aloud. “I never have and I never will!”

Goro’s eyebrows raise, stunned by the vitriol in Yusuke’s voice. Yusuke’s anger hid deep down in his consciousness. It could bear a great deal of stress before waking, far more than Goro. But when it finally did, it leapt out from between his ribs like a viper’s kiss.

Goro begins, “If this is about what those boys said about you—”

“I don’t care what they say about me!” Yusuke snaps. “I care what they say about _you_ for being around me! I care about holding you back!”

_“That’s_ how you see yourself?” Goro asks incredulously. “You think you hold me _back?”_

“You’re going to do such amazing things,” Yusuke gasps, “but you’ll never get there with me weighing you down.”

All their lives, people ignored Goro because of his attachment to Yusuke. The two of them had always been a package deal, ever since they were young. As charming as Goro was, no one wanted to be his friend if it meant spending time with the weird kid, too. If Yusuke weren’t there, no doubt Goro would have any number of friends.

Goro gapes at him, blindsided by the emotions pouring out of Yusuke. Goro had never cared for their classmates’ opinions. Yusuke and his mother were the only people he ever needed, and everyone else could go fuck themselves. He’d never considered that their peers’ judgment weighed heavy on Yusuke’s shoulders.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Goro spits bitterness from his mouth. “Where the hell did you get the idea that you weigh me down?”

Yusuke glares at him, fire sparking in his silver eyes. “You would have been Student Council President if it weren’t for me. But because I’ve tainted your image you have to answer to Nijima-san.”

“Is that really what you think?” Goro scoffs. “I never needed anybody's help to taint my image.”

“That’s absurd. You’re intelligent, and charming, and more beautiful than any masterpiece.” The rush of blood to Goro’s face makes him dizzy. “How could they not adore you?”

“You’ve been so busy listening to what they say about you that you never paid attention to what they say about me.” Goro shakes his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really haven’t heard?” Goro raises an eyebrow. For someone so exacting in his work, Yusuke could truly be oblivious sometimes. “Our classmates think I’m cold, aloof, ruthless. They call Nijima-san and I a pair of robots.”

Yusuke furrows his brow. “That’s—”

“It’s true,” Goro cuts him off. “I don’t care for altruism or the good of society. If it would benefit me I’d throw them all under the bus in an instant.”

Yusuke’s mouth presses into a thin line, Goro’s words forming a stone in his gut. “That’s not true,” he murmurs.

“You only think that because you’re biased.” Goro folds his arms over his chest. “Don’t you see? The only people I’ve ever cared about are myself, my mother, and you.”

Those sharp eyes pierce through the layers of Yusuke’s armor, peeling away what little of his mask remains. Goro’s lip curls back over his teeth in a crooked snarl. It’s perverse and beautiful, and more than anything Yusuke’s fingers itch to capture it on canvas.

“All I’ve ever wanted is to destroy the people that hurt us,” Goro growls, “those pigs that left you and I scrambling in the dirt.”

Yusuke swallows thickly, the fog of Goro’s rage intoxicating. He could so easily get lost in it. “You mean your father?”

“And that bastard that blacklisted your mother,” Goro hisses through clenched teeth. “One day I’m going to climb their ivory tower and bring it crashing down on their heads.”

Yusuke knows that Goro never promises anything he can’t keep. Yusuke has always known that Goro was angry. They used to build staggering towers out of plastic bricks just to tear them down. Goro has told Yusuke about his dream, to chase down the monsters in their pasts and watch them crumble. Yusuke knew that one day he would, that if anyone could change the world, it was Goro. But he’d never truly realized what Goro was willing to sacrifice to make his dream a reality.

“You’re the only thing that keeps me here.” A dying star blazes in Goro’s eyes. “Without you, I’d raze the entire world just to watch them burn.”

Yusuke’s hands shake at his side. “How? What have I ever done to change your mind?”

_“Nothing,”_ Goro gasps, breathless. “You’ve never had to do anything at all except stay by my side.”

_“Why?”_

“Why do you need a reason?” Goro huffs in frustration.

“Because how could I ever change you just by being me?” Yusuke asks.

Goro growls, fisting his hands at his side. “You’re the only thing worth saving in this godforsaken world. I look at our two-faced peers and the adults that just want to crush us beneath their heels and it makes me _sick.”_ Goro steps closer, crowding into Yusuke’s space. “But you look at all the ugliness the world has to offer and see beauty hidden within. How do you do it? We’ve both been exploited our whole lives, yet you choose to hope. _How?”_

Yusuke blinks at him owlishly, then tilts his head. “Goro…” he murmurs, _“you_ taught me that.”

Goro stares at him, finally stunned into silence.

“You put on that fake smile every day and show our classmates what they want to see,” Yusuke says, eyes flashing with steel, “but you’re never more beautiful than when you let me see behind the mask.” He could get lost in Goro’s righteous fury. “The world has been unkind to us, yes. But I know you have the power to change it. One day, I trust that you will.”

Goro can’t help but laugh, even through the press of tears at the back of his eyes. “Every day you show me a world worth saving,” he gasps. “There’s no point in changing the world if I can’t live in it with you.”

Yusuke’s eyes shine as he stares down the barrel of Goro’s unbroken will. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Goro places his hands on Yusuke’s shoulders, grounding them both with a familiar weight. “You make me so much better than I could be alone,” he breathes, words warm on Yusuke’s skin. “You make me _want_ to be a better person.” His eyes shine with the light of a hope Yusuke’s never seen before.

How could anyone possibly resist?

Yusuke falls into his arms, lips pressed to his. Goro stumbles back, gripping tightly to Yusuke’s shoulders. Yusuke’s hands frame Goro’s face, his palms cool against his reddened cheeks. Yusuke kisses like a dying man, like Goro’s every breath is his to take. He’s _right._ How has it taken Goro so long to realize that?

Goro knows Yusuke. He knows Yusuke’s breaths, his skin, his every thought and ambition. Feeling Yusuke’s lips on his and Yusuke’s tongue in his mouth is like a puzzle piece slotting into place. It’s the answer to a question Goro hadn’t known to ask. Goro kisses back, drinks down Yusuke’s gasps and feels _alive._

Goro chases him when Yusuke pulls away. Yusuke holds Goro’s face in his hands, thumb brushing over the curve of Goro’s brow. “You’re not the only one who’s better,” Yusuke murmurs, words humming in Goro’s chest. “You make me strong. I can dare to hope because I have you by my side.”

Goro’s heart bursts in his chest, so bright and joyful it _hurts._ “Do you understand now?” Goro wraps his arms around Yusuke’s neck, pressing him close so that their hearts might beat in time. “I’m yours. I have no intention of leaving you.”

Yusuke smiles, the steel in his eyes soft and tender. “You’re mine,” he hums, and it sends an electric shock down Goro’s spine. “I won’t forget.”

Goro presses his forehead to Yusuke’s, holding him in an embrace so tight it nearly aches. But Yusuke never shies away. He holds his forehead to Goro’s and sighs, breath ghosting across Goro’s skin. Their bodies gently sway to the rhythm of the cicadas and the spring breeze.

“Will you promise me something?” Goro dares to ask.

“Hm?”

“Will you change the world with me?”

They had spent their lives searching through the darkness for any scrap of favor fate dared to offer. Their mothers suffered for the crime of giving them life, and they struggled, bearing the weight of a burden that tried to break them. It was only through luck that they found each other, that they could be there when the other faltered. Through each other, they found something worth protecting.

In another world, Goro might have damned himself to see his justice through to the end. In another world, where he was alone and angry and given more power than any child should ever shoulder. But in this world, where two mothers lived to see their sons grow up, Goro aims to see the other side of justice. He wants happiness for his mother, for Yusuke, for all the cursed children with lives like theirs, but he wants to be there to share it, too.

Justice isn’t enough. He wants peace, as well.

Yusuke holds him like he always has. His arms are a safe haven from a cruel world, they have been since Goro was a child. They will be for years to come.

“Of course,” Yusuke breathes. “I want nothing more than to create a beautiful world with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can come talk to me on [tumblr](https://aceklaviergavin.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/aceklaviergavin)


End file.
